My Daddy

     And just like that..... back to work and whatever the new normal becomes.

Fifty six years ago I became the last daughter to my parents. Daddy always liked to tell every one I was supposed to be a boy named Bruce Allen. How he knew what I was supposed to be I’ll never know but I became his sidekick, his tomboy. I’ve heard so many stories from Daddy I could almost repeat them verbatim. So, guess what? You are about to be subjected to LeBron stories. 

     When I was a little kid Daddy and his best bud Preacher Hogan worked on cars. I remember Hogan was always on the carport so much under a car that I have no memory of him every being in the house! He worked at the NAPA store in downtown Dalton and when we stopped in I always got to turn the knob on the chicklet gum machine. I wasn’t but around 3-4 years old and was underfoot on the carport. I wanted to help Daddy and Hogan and being the little sidekick Daddy figured out a way to keep me busy....usually. He told of a time I had on a white smock and was piddling around them. He told me several times to go play but there I was. He gave me the shoo one last time and off I scampered only to return with oil all over my smock. I had stuck my hands into some of the crud and smeared it all over the front announcing “I help now Daddy”. I’m sure I got a swat on the butt for that but I don’t remember and he never admitted to it. We all know it wouldn’t have come from him anyway. The oldest of us girls always said “you are so spoiled”. Well, it really wasn’t my fault. They all had a hand in it and the baby girl is supposed to be Daddy’s girl and spoiled isn’t she?

     While jumping on the bed one time, I fell busting my lip. It wasn’t just any little busted lip. I bit right through it and ended up in the ER getting stitches. It was told I ate more food than allowed when I got home. I don’t remember it but later in life the allowance of things that should go in my stomach should have been more limited. I have an aversion to cheese puffs and learned to push away after Daddy said I needed to not eat so many of them. I didn’t believe him at that time because he was still eating them. Guess who threw up cheese puffs? Wasn’t Daddy.....He was still eating cheese puffs in the nursing two weeks before he passed. I have never eaten another one!

     At five I was being my usual self and going a little too fast on the neighbor’s breezeway. Down I went and crack went the arm. The first of several broken bones along the way. While in the ER along comes Daddy. He wasn’t there because I had broken my arm. He was there because he had a work accident. I believe he scalded his foot but I’m not sure. One of the siblings would have to clarify that one. To say we did things together would be truthful if you count that little visit. It also wasn’t the last time I was in the ER with Daddy.

     Then, it seems Daddy disappeared. As an adult I know exactly what happened. Daddy was supporting a family of six working two jobs while Mom was busy keeping children and sewing. I have some wonderful memories of Rebecca, Fran and Melanie during this time but not a lot of my Daddy. I do remember one time going to Gibson’s where he worked produce. I bagged lettuce heads and thought it was crazy how fast he could do that. There was no job too menial for a man trying to support his family.

    Soon after the sisters went on to marry and leave the nest leaving me and Steve at home. Going from a family of six to a family of four meant Daddy could work one job. 1970s in the Patterson household held a CB base station. Every evening when Daddy headed home I would have the CB turned up so I could hear “breaker, breaker, come in taterbug”. “This is Taterbug, is this Coat-hanger?”  Of course it was and this exchange went on until he reached the house. I would run and jump into his arms. He always would tell people the running and jumping continued until I was about 16 and as I ran he held up his hands screaming “NO NO NO” we were both a little old (and too big) to be continuing that little scenario. 

     Dating was very interesting whenever Daddy was home. He tried several times to intimidate my dates and sometime it worked. He tried to point me toward the boys he wanted me to date and that worked sometimes. One boy in particular, “that Painter boy” as Daddy called him, was one of them. Bruce knocked on the door at the appointed time and who should answer the door but my daddy holding a shotgun. Bruce laughs, reaches for the gun and they spent the next hour discussing weapons! 

     Fussing and fighting was commonplace at the Patterson household. It was always something. Mom always cut Daddy’s hair and true to form the fussing was continuous. He would pull on the sides and tell her she wasn’t doing it right. She rarely fussed back, well until I got older. It was a funny exchange when mom found her voice, but I digress. Daddy was showing some serious signs of Parkinson’s when Mom asked me to cut his hair. He was no longer his fun loving silly self a lot of times and the yelling got louder. I called him into the sunroom and told him Mom wanted me to cut his hair. I don’t know how I did it with such finesse but he readily agreed to let me. I struck a deal with him that he wasn’t to say a word to me unless it was good or I was going to charge him $8. He never one time complained about my haircuts, always said he liked it and thanked me when we finished. Some would find it morbid, hard or weird but I had the pleasure of cutting Daddy’s hair one last time at the funeral home after Dan got him ready for me. It was one last time I got to spend alone with my Daddy. It was time I needed to do one last act of service as he had pattered for me. 

     Learning to drive with LeBron Patterson was definitely that....a learning experience. Putting two people in one car with the same attitude can spell trouble. His favorite lines were “if you’ll just give me your mind”, “you have to always be on the defense not the offense”, and “if you will just listen”. His theory was one would have three wrecks before they would truly learn to drive or zero wrecks and they knew how to drive defensively. I must have been a pretty good defensive driver as I never wrecked. April on the other hand, had a few. Anytime we took a long trip I was the only one Daddy would let drive him. Otherwise it was him behind the wheel. Me trying to teach him to wear his seatbelt was a whole other mountain to get over. Never was there a single time that I backed out of the driveway on Marshall Drive that I didn’t hear “watch my truck”. Believe me when I say, sometimes I even acted like I was going to hit it on purpose..... I know.....

     Whether dating or going out with friends or leaving the nest to move to Augusta, “I love you“s were offered up by me. Daddy’s response was “We love you”. It became the running joke. Daddy NEVER said “I” it was always “we”. His theory was when he and mama married they became one. I’m sure it was a generational thing that real men didn’t say those things. My children were born and still the joking continued about “we”. The first time Daddy told me he loved me was just before I walked down the aisle to be married. Imagine my shock! I was a nervous wreck, questioning my decision and instead of asking me if I was sure, he told me he loved me!! Holy Cow! I got to my betrothed and Dad kissed me AND mom, my mouth was agape. I believe I should have had that marriage annulled because I was in shock. I didn’t know what I was doing after the “I” came out of his mouth. I couldn’t comprehend what was happening. I couldn’t object so I forever held my peace. Ok, I held my peace until I didn’t. I realized today (3/23) tomorrow is the 30th anniversary of those magic words being spoken.

     Preacher Darey had a sermon on love at some point that I was driving Daddy back and forth to church services on Sunday. On the way home I told him he needed to go in the house and tell mama he loved her. We walked in and he couldn’t do it without a whole lot of prodding and giggling. He grabbed her and said “I do you know”. My silly father FINALLY said “I love you” to my mom. I don’t know how long it had been since he had spoken those words to her but we all remember that moment in time because it was a momentous time in our lives. From that day forward Daddy always said “I love you” or “love you too”. It changed my life. I always KNEW he did but to hear those words were golden. Those words were also the last ones he spoke to me. Golden words indeed.

     Daddy loved by acts of service. He showed love to everyone. As Darey said at the funeral he was known by many names. 

Wimpy to his friends and family growing up

Uncle LeBron to those nieces and nephews that he loved so well

Pat to those friends and co workers in Dalton

Sarge to Nelda and David as he tried to guide them along

Coat Hanger to the CB folks within hearing distance

Bicycle Man to Brian who couldn’t seem to keep a chain on his bike

Mr Patterson to our friends

Mr Pat to Melanie, Fran, Rebecca and a host of other girls that I ran with

Hey Ump to many Whitfield county boys and girls that played ball

Husband of 69 years to my Mama

Daddy to Kathy, Teresa, Steve and of course me

Granddaddy to Nancy, Robert, April, Stacy, Carson, Cole, Emma Kate, Andrew, Olivia, Kristen, Kelly, Hunter, Casey and Finn

Number 1 to Taylor as the mutual admiration society was in full swing

Grandpat to Bradley 

Papaw to Hollie

     He was special to so many. As we were setting up his service at the funeral home I asked Julian how many bodies he thought Daddy had picked up for him. Julian responded “Over 5000”. That is unbelievable. That is a lot of people that he reached. It was his calling. He was good at it. He would drop everything that was going on to go and help. It wasn’t just the funeral home it was anyone in need. All they had to do was call and Dad would do what he could. Now, I’m not saying that some of those “helps” didn’t come without a lesson or a string. Usually the string was the lesson, one just had to look for the lesson sometime. I have pulled many strings. On occasion, I hear those lessons come out of my mouth.

     Daddy taught me many things. He taught me how to pitch and drop a softball into a bucket. He taught me how to drive. He taught me not to let anyone get the best of me. That last lesson was good when some crazy date thought there was more there than there was. My mouth was quick and would slice and dice before you knew you had been cut. Unfortunately, that independence has been both a blessing and a curse. Daddy never had to worry about me when I was gone. I stood tall. It didn’t serve me well when it came to my marriages. Just like there was the right way, the wrong way and LeBron’s way, I have the same seed deep down. My way or highway usually. Does it count if I recognize it? 

     Mom and Dad made sure we were in church every time the doors were open.  I don’t know where I would be today if I hadn’t seen my mama doing her Bible study every morning. Her prayer requests on the bathroom counter. Every Sunday morning Daddy was studying his Sunday School lesson and polishing his shoes. We were ALWAYS early to church (anywhere we went actually) and he always had a job. He was part of the original men that transported the handicap. He was a deacon, training union director, Sunday School teacher. He sang in the choir on men’s night and would sing falsetto being silly when singing next to me. There was zero doubt where my Daddy longed to be when he left this world.

     The last few years have been very hard on all involved. As we watched our Daddy becoming more dependent on us, I hope he realized he had done a good job by showing us how it is done with humility and grace. I wouldn’t have traded one second of those last breaths for anything. It was so calming almost cathartic. I had told Mom and Dad a while back that as they were leaving this earth I was going to encourage them to run. Run to Jesus. We had all let Daddy know we were going to be ok for he always made sure we were. As his number one sat holding his hand, me on the other side, my two sisters, sis in law, mom and Brother Darey I did just as I had promised. I told my daddy the hardest thing I have ever had to tell him and that was “RUN DADDY”! Run he did too.